Oh Poor Atlas
by LilyBolt
Summary: Castiel stood before the gate to Purgatory, his legs weakening under the weight of his latest mistake... A oneshot detailing Castiel's perspective as he returned the souls to purgatory in 7X01. Not a slash fiction.


**Author's Note: I am very new to this! I was having a bit of a downer day, hence the downer story. This story is a oneshot about Castiel's perspective as he returned the souls to Purgatory. Reviews are always appreciated! **

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Castiel, Dean, or any of the amazing people/creatures in Supernatural. :(  
**

Oh Poor Atlas

Castiel stood before the gate to Purgatory, his legs weakening under the weight of his latest mistake. Because that is what all these souls had been, right? Yet another mistake in a long string of failures… He had waited too long to join Dean the first time, and the apocalypse had been started. He had brought Sam back from the Hell after the apocalypse, only to find that he had left the man's soul behind. He had begun working with a demon, to end the fight that could reboot the apocalypse… but was that really what it had been? Had he not secretly reveled in the idea of taking control of Heaven? Of being the one to show angels the glory of freedom, while simultaneously guiding them with a firm hand as their new God? Castiel glanced over his shoulder at Dean and immediately wished he hadn't. The disgust reflected on the hunter's face almost caused Castiel's knees to buckle. "I'm sorry, Dean." He managed to say, before turning back to the abyss that spread before him. And he was. He was so sorry.

He was here to return the souls that he fought so hard to attain. Because he was never meant to have them. He could see that now. His arrogance had been his downfall, and although he believed that in the end, he would be left with nothing, not even the hunter he considered to be family, Castiel knew that he must at least try to right this wrong. And so here he stood before a fracture in two realities, preparing to release the souls of thousands of creatures. The souls of monsters. The souls that, no matter how monstrous, could never be as evil as he felt right now.

And then they were emptying from his vessel. He was emptying, and draining, and it _hurt_. Each soul clawed its way out, ripping at him as if with fiery claws. Tearing at his grace and threatening to destroy every ounce of his being. And Castiel couldn't help but wonder if that would really be so bad. He had apologized to Dean, and to have that apology be his final act would only be fitting, really. After all, what could he say or do that could possibly be of more value than to repent for his sins against the human he owed so much to. And the pain. The pain was overwhelming! His very essence screamed as the souls burned through him and out of him. And just as quickly as it had begun, it stopped.

Castiel knew nothing but darkness. He slid down to the floor, unaware of the man who scrambled to his side. Had he seen Dean run to him, he would only have felt more guilt. Had he heard Dean's frantic attempts to rouse him, he would have only wished for the pain to start again. To distract him from the far more agonizing torture of seeing the friend he betrayed be so ready to forgive him the moment he was in need. But fate chose to be kind for some unknown reason, and thus consciousness evaded Castiel. And above the angel, the fallen angel who had truly fallen in every sense of the word, tears fell. Softly at first, then more rapidly, and then accompanied by screams of frustration and grief. Dean Winchester wept for the loss of the friend who had chosen to abandon him. Who had chosen a demon over him. Who had raised him from Hell, given all to him, and then stumbled while Dean was unable to catch him.

And then the darkness lifted. Castiel gradually became aware of his friend's angry pleas for him to awaken. He opened his eyes and his gaze rested upon orbs of green rimmed with thin red lines. "Cas?" The voice was hopeful, and that hope broke Castiel's heart. "That was unpleasant." Castiel managed to grumble. And just like that, arms were pulling him to his feet, and helping him to stay upright. Dean was there, patting him on the back and laughing softly with relief. Castiel felt the urge to scream at Dean and demand he explain his foolish readiness to forgive. Instead, Castiel found himself being pulled into a tight hug. "Hey. I know you screwed up. And believe me, when you're up to it I'll kick your ass for all that crap you pulled…But for now… For now I'm just happy to have you back." And suddenly Castiel felt lighter than he had in months. The weight that had been threatening to break his legs seemed to vanish. Perhaps his pattern of failure and mistakes was ending after all. Because if Dean could have faith in him, even when he didn't deserve it, then maybe he could do better next time.

And that was when the Leviathans chose to make their presence known. Because fate had not been kind. Fate had merely been patient. It had been waiting for the optimum moment to strike the most pain into Castiel's heart. Several minutes later, as the Leviathans forced Castiel to march himself into the river and meet his demise, Castiel's last thought was how he wished he had died after apologizing to Dean, because at least then he could say his final act was a good one. And the guilt washed over him, and the water washed over him, and his knees finally collapsed out from under him, and Castiel knew no more.

**Secondary Author's Note: I apologize if I made anybody feel depressed with this one... :P **


End file.
